WORK WAS WORK. At least, that's what Blaire told herself most days.
In the course of her first year working and studying at the University, a number of things happened. Her research had started out slow, between acclimating to the new environment and adjusting to the content that Chancellor Stone had her spending the bulk of her time on. Blaire hadn't been let in on the details of what exactly the bigger picture was for her research assignments, but had found out quickly as the semester approached that one of her responsibilities during the academic year was teaching a course in Latin. Chancellor Stone, when questioned (since most of the programs have the necessary latin built into their curriculum) gave a vague answer along the lines of students expressing an interest in a dedicated course. Understanding that she wasn't in a place to question further, Blaire had dropped the subject.
Between juggling a course from the teaching side (a definite first), her research assignments, and her own legal doctrinal courses, Blaire didn't get a lot of time for herself. Most days her mid-length dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail with barely any makeup around her equally brown eyes or full lips. The extensive grounds of the campus led to her suits being paired with flats or appropriate boots, not willing to destroy her feet in heels so early in her career. She rationalized that at 5'6" she was tall enough for her sex, and since she worked alone in her position there wasn't any reason to impress anyone. Carrying a spare pair of shoes around constantly was a hassle in itself anyways, and would have gotten in the way of the different materials she carried across the campus on a daily basis in her leather over the shoulder tote bag.
That first year though went by faster than she could have imagined. Her research consumed most of her time. The Chancellor had her translating document after document, it seemed. Sometimes the Chancellor would hand her a folder like she had on that very first day, sometimes a messenger was sent with a set, or sometimes a package was simply left on her porch for her to find when she returned home for the day.
It only took a couple of weeks for Blaire to catch on to something more going on with the texts the Chancellor had her working with. While she was used to strange topics (the ancients had strange beliefs in comparison to modern ones, after all) the documents she worked with were just...more. Oftentimes Blaire felt as though the papers in her hands were alive, humming with an unfamiliar energy that unnerved her. Other times she was either finding documents that weren't previously accounted for or searching frantically through her at-home workspace for a piece that never even existed.
That was another thing. Chancellor stone insisted that Blaire work in her home. It was almost like she shouldn't be seen with these documents, but why would that be the case? She was hired on to the University staff for exactly this purpose, translating ancient texts. With the condition some of the documents were in, that box was definitely checked on her job description. Why she couldn't do that in the office space provided to her was another mystery.
The spring semester caused a lot of trouble. The day itself started out wrong, since Blaire had run out of eggs a couple days before and failed to make it out to the grocery store to restock. So the breakfast she was looking forward to was out the window. Starting the day with a sour mood, she knew the last thing she wanted to do was go see Chancellor Stone, but the woman had requested the return of the most recent batch of texts as soon as possible, and in person. Blaire didn't necessarily understand the importance, as the documents translated were only a garbled mixture of anecdotes surrounding some nameless ritual worship of a time long past.
Pulling on the blazer to her plain black pantsuit with more force than usual, she checked her bag that sat ready to go by the door one last time for all the texts. Satisfied that they were all still present as they had been when she packed the bag the night before, she headed out the door locking it behind her. Outside, the skies were dark and overcast, a hearty breeze twirling itself through the trees surrounding the place that she had come to call her home. Great, she thought, Just another great thing to add to my day. She sincerely hoped that she hadn't made a grave error by leaving her rain jacket at home; it threatened to rain all the time this time of year, and hopefully would hold off long enough for her to do what she needed to.
Her walk to the Chancellor's office felt longer than usual due to her poor mood. Readjusting her grip on her bag, she trudged her way up the stairs leading to the administration building where the Chancellor was located. In all honesty, Blaire fully expected Ms. Stone to be conveniently out of the office, which would give her the opportunity to drop the folder in the makeshift mailbox that was posted to the side of the door and avoid an encounter with the woman altogether. Unfortunately for her, that would be all too convenient the way the day was going. As luck would have it, as Blaire approached the closed door she heard the very distinct tones of Chancellor Stone, as well as a few others.
Great, she thought, Now I get to interrupt another one of her meetings. She had made the mistake once before, assuming the Chancellor didn't want to be bothered in times exactly like this. Blaire had learned however after the first tongue lashing that the Chancellor was very particular about the texts she requested in person delivery of, regardless of who else she might be meeting with at the time. So, Blaire sucked in a breath and knocked twice on the door, with purpose.
There was an abrupt hush that fell over the room before the door opened, revealing the Chancellor and two individuals who looked like students-one male and one female. The Chancellor looked surprised to see her, as if she had been expecting someone else at the door. Normally not too unsettling, as the Chancellor met with students often in varying capacities, but the male student was covered in what Blaire sorely wished was a dye of some sort, a deep red in color. She feared it was blood. Feared she had walked into something she shouldn't have.
"I have the texts you wanted returned," She said, unable to take her eyes off of the clearly bleeding student.
The Chancellor narrowed her eyes at her research assistant, cursing the girl in her thoughts. This was the fifth time something like this had happened since she'd been hired. There had been even more close calls before that. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring the girl in, though her work truly was invaluable to The Order. At this rate The Order was going to have a problem keeping stores of the memory powder that Stone ordered the female student, Medicum Alyssa Drake, to use in that moment.
One sharp look to the two Order members was all it took to keep them quiet, their questioning gazes heavy on their Magus. As much as she believed she didn't have to worry about the graduate student, it was getting ridiculous the number of times the girl had been close to discovering their secret. It shouldn't have been this difficult, either. For years The Order had been kept secret from an entire University, right under their noses, and here was a research assistant getting closer to finding the truth than anyone had before.
And not for lack of trying.
Sucking on her teeth, the Magus sent the students away after performing a quick healing spell. Now, to figure out what to do with Ms. Kensington…
Blaire woke with a start. She lurched forward, barely grabbing onto the table in front of her in time to save her poor forehead from making contact with the solid wood. Her head was already pounding like she partied for three days straight, the last thing she wanted to do was add to that pain accidentally. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand over her face in a lame attempt to ease the ache.
It took a moment, but the memories came back in pieces. This was the third time she'd felt like this, missing an entire chunk of her day. Looking out the window of her workspace, she saw that the sky had darkened even more in however much time had passed this time.
After the first occurrence, Blaire had assumed she had just blacked out or something from the stress of her situation. The second time, when memories came back, she had a sneaking suspicion that something fishy was going on. This time, she was sure. Something was fucking with her memories. She remembered arriving a Chancellor Stone's office, and a red substance...Blood? She thought, the memory hazy.
Groaning again, she covered her face and gave up on trying to push through the memory. Between the weird things she had been translating and tracking down, the things she half remembered, and the chills her work gave her sometimes...something was wrong. Very wrong.